Christmas in Armaugh
by hiddenfiresindeed
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Colin's past unexpectedly returns on his doorstep, hoping to right their wrongs. A pining Brolin fic for the Christmas season.


Title: Christmas in Armaugh

Characters/Pairings: Bradley James, Colin Morgan

Rating: K+

Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Colin's past returns on his doorstep, hoping to right their wrongs.

A/N: Written for Danny and Michael. I keep intending to write Merthur, and Brolin just keeps happening. To my chagrin, they are my main OTP. Everything's Brolin, and everything hurts. My head canon has the Morgan family as simple, ordinary, and family-centered, and I can just imagine Bradley crashing Christmas dinner, swapping Christmas crackers, and trailing after Colin to midnight mass. *sigh* A girl can dream…. A huge hug to dearlittlesev for beta'ing. Reviews make my muse deliriously happy – please R and R! Happy Christmas, everyone!

Disclaimer: This is purely fictional, and obviously doesn't represent true life in any way. I don't own Merlin or anything related to BBC. If I did, like everyone else, I would have found a way to do Series Six, and bring these two back together.

The young man hesitated on the top step, his long fingers twitching nervously. The clear blue eyes roved over the face of the house, glass panes brightly lit from within, sprigs of greenery festively adorning the outer windows and front door. He took a deep steadying breath, and swallowing back some vivid, strong emotion, he lifted his fist and firmly knocked on the wooden door paneling.

After an agonizing moment's wait, he heard steps approach, and his stomach clenched fearfully. The door opened, and the waiting man's breath caught abruptly in his chest at the sight. The Irishman in the doorway didn't even register his presence at first, his attention drawn to the lightly falling snow. With a small smile at the picturesque winter landscape, the dark blue eyes turned from the falling flurries to the waiting visitor, and the smile faltered. The dark-haired youth blinked, once, twice, his mouth slightly agape. He turned to look back over his shoulder nervously at the occupants within, merry, non-descript voices filtering from various rooms in the house. Stepping out from the doorway, he pulled the door shut behind him.

"What are you doing here?" The accented voice was flat, and clearly not happy. Thin shoulders shivered, and Bradley was distracted momentarily by tiny snowflakes catching on the dark lashes before him. Trying to remember what on earth had made him think this was a good idea, the blonde shifted on his feet.

"Yeah, so I know it's Christmas Eve, and I don't want to intrude on your family gathering." Unbidden, memories of past holidays in this same house surfaced, but he pushed them away forcefully, and continued. "I just wanted to talk to you. Is there somewhere we could go…? Get a cup of coffee?"

The pale boy remained still, his dark eyes looking past the Englishman's shoulder out into the now rapidly falling snow. After a moment's hesitation, he gestured with his hand. "There's a shop down the road," he agreed dully. "One mo'," and disappeared, returning rapidly with a jacket in hand.

The two men started walking down the paved road, both caught up in silent musings. Colin's voice was the first to break the silence. "I can't believe you came here tonight," he said in a low tone, the frustration bleeding through. "You know what they all think, right?" He kept his eyes on his shoes. "Even my mam thought we were shagging."

Bradley squirmed guiltily under his coat. "I'm sorry," he murmured softly. "I didn't think about this being awkward with your guests."

Colin snorted derisively, and they continued in an awkward silence the rest of the journey to the coffee shop. Bradley watched the road ahead, resisting the urge to steal furtive glances at his companion. The tension was palpable, and disconcerting. This cold, reserved, disinterested stranger was _not_ Colin, not _his_ Colin. His heart sank, and he closed his eyes momentarily against the stinging pricks, wondering what had compelled him to travel there after all this time.

The shop was unusually busy, filled with last-minute shoppers and customers on their way to holiday parties and family gatherings. They found a table in the corner of the shop, near a window overlooking the now white landscape. They sat silently, avoiding each other's gaze, until a waiter came over to take their orders. When the tension became nearly unbearable, Bradley finally broke the silence, his voice soft and pleading. "Cols…"

Colin twitched at the word, hearing the nickname spoken in that particular voice, and he reluctantly looked up. Bradley forced himself to meet his old friend's gaze, and finally saw the emotion that had been so startlingly absent in the other's tone – the painful recognition, shared memories, love, hurt, betrayal… anger. And Bradley was the one who had put it all there. He suddenly felt a bit sick. "What happened?" he said slowly, his tone bereft.

" _What happened_?" The accent was thick, and grew more indecipherable as Colin stuttered. "You tell me. Not a call, not a text, my emails deleted unopened," he paused painfully, "not a word, Bradley, in over a year."

The blonde closed his eyes, all too aware of the lapsed time, trying again to block out the piercing memories of the past months, and the longing for his friend that had sometimes grown to a physical ache deep in his chest. "I know," he answered quietly, fidgeting with the ring encircling his thumb.

"You shouldn't have come," were the next words, spoken so low that he could barely hear them, and Bradley flinched, the statement cutting through him like a blade.

"I know… I'm sorry. You've already made it clear that you didn't want me here." Bradley paused and the other boy remained taciturn, brooding, his dark eyes sparking dangerously. Both men waited in silence, sipping their warm drinks.

"I - I trusted you, mate." The words came softly out of the silence. "You knew how it was for me; I don't have a lot of friends." The walls were suddenly down, and Colin was speaking openly, the words raw and bitter. "I get on with everyone, yeah, but I don't let them in." He paused, the dark lashes stark against pasty cheekbones, as his eyes flickered downwards. "You were the exception. You pushed your way in, and I let you – and _you left me_." The voice spoke loudly, anger and betrayal coloring every word, but if the other patrons in the shop overheard, the two young men were oblivious.

The stoic dam of long-repressed indifference had suddenly burst, and a torrent of words continued. "Do you know what that did to me? I grieved for our friendship for months, Bradley . You were more than a brother to me; you've been part of my existence for so many years now, and then… just… nothing. You closed off, without any explanation." The deep baritone broke off, choking over the words, and Colin looked away suddenly in embarrassment.

Bradley sat with his head bowed, his heart beating furiously, his face flushed. _How had it come to this?_ There had been a time, during those hectic, contented months in Cardiff, when he had thought life without Colin in it, was unimaginable, and impossible. He forced his thoughts back to the present, the old memories too painful to linger on. "I'm not the only one to blame here," he argued, his own voice now tinged with anger. "You told me to stay in America. _I_ wanted to go to Mojo's closing night, and _you_ said 'no'."

Colin's eyes flashed again. "Of course, I said no. I'm never online, but even I knew what was going around the internet. Ben and Rupert were constantly taking the Mick out of me after you were spotted outside Pinter. And you had just started a serious relationship; I didn't want rumors on Tumblr complicating things for you."

"Yeah, well," Bradley hurriedly changed the subject, not wanting to muddy his thoughts with _her_ at the moment. "Well, I did what you asked. I knew you needed privacy, so I took some work in America, and left you to your own life." His throat tightened. "And I've been missing you ever since."

They sat in tense silence again, the background noises of the café echoing loudly as a backdrop to all the words that weren't being said. A waitress passed the table, and gave a questioning glance at the two boys, both intently gazing at the ground.

"I've missed you, too," Bradley heard the soft words, hesitantly spoken. His gaze jerked up, and he found himself looking straight into Colin's large blue eyes, wet with unshed tears. "Nothing has felt right since then. I've been…" he hesitated, blushing, "empty."

Bradley continued to look into his friend's eyes unwaveringly. It occurred to him that this was definitely a conversation two heterosexual males shouldn't be having. But in spite of the speculation amongst their family and friends, it didn't really matter whether this was platonic or not, because somewhere in their years together it had transcended beyond labels, and had become so much more. It was simply being two halves of one existence, a shared soul. People had called their friendship co-dependent, but neither had ever really cared. Because what was so wrong with allowing yourself to be vulnerable and open enough to admit you needed someone, that your happiness depended on theirs? Yet _that_ was where the problem lay. Both of them had acted in a way they thought would be easier for the other, and in the process, had screwed everything up utterly. And possibly beyond recall.

The English actor's eyes softened, looking at the face he loved so well. "I can't keep doing this, Col," he admitted in stark honesty. "This past year has been hell. It's no wonder I couldn't keep a girlfriend – she said I was emotionally shut-down." He looked across at his former cast mate. "So what do we do?"

The wide eyes looking back at him were affectionate, but guarded. "I don't know, Bradley. I don't trust very easily, and I'm not letting myself be put in that situation again…" His thin face darkened as his mind clearly fluttered back over his own, shadowed memories. Watching him, Bradley made a mental note to delve into those memories at some point, and find out just _what_ exactly his foolish behavior had driven Colin to. "Can we..." the blonde paused, choosing his words selectively, desperate to make this all right again. "Can we just start out again? Not best friends, or _life partners_ ," Colin snorted, "just…be mates again?"

The younger man hesitated, and Bradley feared for a moment that this time, the kind and gentle Irishman would finally prove himself unforgiving. Blue connected with blue, and Bradley looked into the wells of hurt still lingering, and the anger hidden beneath the surface. It wouldn't be vanquished quickly, or easily. They would be back to the start, back to that first year in Pierrefonds, awkwardly and cautiously sussing each other out, but Bradley would gladly take that. Anything to have Colin back in his life.

Colin reached up to swipe a long, thin finger against his wet cheek in embarrassment. "Yeah," his eyes darted all around the shop nervously before finally looking back at his friend, the reluctant beginnings of trust evident in his eyes. "Yeah, I guess we could."

The walk back to the Morgan house was silent, but peaceful. Bradley strolled along, his step keeping pace with Colin's as if they had never parted. He felt an overwhelming contentment wrap around him like a blanket, the familiar warm buzz in his chest more intoxicating than any alcohol had ever been. He had missed this feeling of one-ness.

As they neared the house, Colin cleared his throat and spoke up. "I've already given up my room to Aunt Ailene and Uncle Liam. I'm kipping on the family room sofa tonight," he chewed on a corner of his lip nervously, "but if you want the other sofa, you're welcome to it."

Bradley bit back the idiotic grin threatening to spill across his face. "Wouldn't be the first time I've kipped on your mum's sofa," he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Glancing sideways, Colin suddenly grinned. "No, it wouldn't," he agreed with a smirk. They continued a few more paces, listening to the snow crunch beneath their trainers, then Bradley felt an arm reach out to hesitantly drape across the blonde's shoulders, pulling him sideways into a shy embrace. Bradley's breath caught in his throat for a moment, and he slid his arm back to rest around Colin's waist, assuming their familiar stance as of old. Contentment flared again in his chest, mingled with a gratitude for the second chance they had been given.

"Mam, we've got another guest," Colin called out as they walked up the steps, his voice still catching with the emotions of the evening. The Irishman opened the front door, and an enveloping warmth, both physical and figurative, bathed over them. Bradley hesitated on the doorstep, listening to the sounds of merry-making, of _family_ , from within. He heard Mrs. Morgan's gentle tone calling out to her son, and the door opened further, casting a glow on the front steps with a radiance that chased away the last shadows lingering in his soul. He followed Colin into the house, and entered into his own.


End file.
